Outside a Market Stall
by ScribeofArda
Summary: 'Actually, she thought they looked like brothers. The blond elf and the dark haired man had seemed at first glance maybe an unlikely friendship, but she dared anyone who saw them for more than a few moments to say otherwise.' A woman behind her market stall looks in on Legolas and Aragorn. Outsider POV, oneshot.


Outside a Market Stall

 _IT'S DONE. IT'S OVER NOW._

 _I'M FREEEEE!_

 _*ahem* My last exam was this morning, and so I have no more for another year! And yes, I just quoted Lord of the Rings (that bit when the Ring has just been destroyed, from Frodo and Sam). But I am free! My life has literally consisted of past papers and exam questions and mind maps for the past two months, so I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do with myself now, but at least it won't be exams!_

 _Anyway, as I am finished and in a good mood, here is the surprise I mentioned in the new chapter yesterday. Have a oneshot! I recently got a little addicted to reading outside POVs of my favourite characters (actually Supernatural oneshots, bc I am also a massive spn fan) and decided I simply have to write one of them. So here goes._

 _No prizes for guessing who it is going to be about. And I also wrote this last night in about two hours, so it's not that long, but once the idea got stuck in my head I thought I would write it down for you guys. I seriously owe you all, because it is all of you who keep me writing at some times, so here is a thank you present :)_

 _Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. I own nothing._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

The sun was still low in the sky, but it was steadily climbing over the Ephel Duath and meandering towards the White City. It was just past dawn, and summer was finding its way south.

She was watching the sunrise in between setting up her stall for the festivities. People were already beginning to move around, and the bakery nearby had been open for a little while now. She had already been in, buying a small roll for breakfast before a long day.

Soldiers moved past her, their armour long since gone. They were heading to the walls of the city and beyond, where larger pavilions were being erected. Some were on guard, but more were merely lending a helping had where they could. Swords still hung at their waists, but they were rarely used anymore, remaining not only as a precaution, but as a reminder of what they had passed through.

She smiled at the thought of it. Ten years ago, she could not have imagined selling brightly coloured candies in the streets of Minas Tirith. Ten years ago, she could have not even imagined being in the city, let alone being alive and in a land that was, for the most part, healing.

She had come to the city two years ago from Pelargir, following many of her friends and family. Pelargir it had been ten years ago, when so many were so close to despair. Hope had come in the form of a tall figure on horseback, followed by more tall grey figures, but they had swept past the houses like ghosts, passing over the fleet of ships and flitting up the Anduin without a glimpse at their faces.

She easily remembered the fear that decade ago, for the time had not been so long that the shadow was eclipsed by the sunlight moving slowly now across the Pelennor. She easily remembered the trap of despair that had been beneath them all. But time had dulled the edge of the blade that had rested on all of their necks at one point, and now it merely stung a little at occasional moments.

She shook her head with a smile, tearing another piece from the fresh bread roll and popping it in her mouth. It had been ten years. That had been time enough to dwell on it.

For one more time she checked her stall. Bright candies and coloured sweets nestled together with fruit tarts, made from her last reserves of autumn fruits, and sweet loafs. Bright ribbons, which were always popular with young children on days like these, hung from one post. She smiled at the sight of them fluttering in the slight breeze passing them by.

The sun was a little higher now, and a few more people were moving up and down the streets. She stood behind her stall, glancing down at the book stacked neatly on top of wrapped candies ready to sell, and wondered if she could read some more pages now.

A peal of silver laughter from nearby distracted her, and she looked up, a little startled at the sound. Laughter was not uncommon in the city by any means, but never had she heard such a laugh, that filled the air in a way that a mortal voice was not able to do.

She soon found the source of the laugh that felt like wind flitting through boughs laden with green leaves. Two people were walking slowly down the street, talking in voices that would be quiet, if it were not for the early hour. As it was, she could hear every word.

Her lips curved in a smile as she listened more closely. She could indeed hear every word, yet she had no idea what they were saying. The language was not her own, that was for sure. It was rich and beautiful, rolling easily off their tongues and spilling over into the warm dawn.

With a start, she realised one of them was an elf, as he turned to catch her gaze and swiftly grinned. He had his hood up, which was why she had not seen it instantly, but there was no mistaking the long hair and keen eyes of the elves that had recently moved to Ithilien, though she had not seen one with such golden hair, nor blue eyes, before. The other person was a man, dark grey hair flecked with grey and steel grey eyes. He smiled at something the elf said, and the steel melted and formed warm grey ashes.

A young child, around six at her guess, ran around the man's legs, clutching one of them and giggling. The man bent down and whispered something, to which the child nodded with an unabashed grin. In a swift movement, the man picked up the boy and swung him up with a merry laugh, before catching him and settling him in his arms. Any doubt that the man was the boy's father was quickly dispelled by the child melting into the man's arms, resting his head on the man's shoulder.

She could not help but smile at them. The elf said something to the boy in his rolling tongue, most likely Elvish, and the child laughed and replied in the same language. She thought it a little strange, that a mortal child knew the elven tongue, but elves had become a more regular sight in the city, and the curiosity of children knew no bounds.

The elf caught her gaze again, and this time he did not look away. She blushed, and then curtseyed slightly at the elf wandered over to her stall.

"My Lord," she murmured. She had not been in the city that long, and seeing elves, let alone speaking to them, was a wholly new experience for her. The elf smiled at her, and she noticed the beauty in his face for the first time. Her blush deepened.

"You have set up early," he said, and there was only a hint of an accent on his tongue as he spoke. He was at ease, and that allowed some of the slight nerves in her at being confronted with an elf to fade.

"If I did not, then there would be nothing for Lords such as you early in the morning," she said, and the elf laughed. The sound once more washed over her, and for a moment she felt stunned.

"Besides," she said. "I wish to visit the Pelennor in the afternoon, so must sell my wares when I can." The elf nodded, his eyes flickering over the candies and tarts laid out in front.

She was so busy watching him that she did not notice the man come to the elf's side until the child squealed with delight at seeing the candies. She felt her cheeks redden again when the man smiled softly upon seeing her jump.

The boy, his dark hair swinging around his cheeks as he attempted jumping up and down in his father's arms, was now chattering excitedly about candies. The elf chuckled.

"Buy something, _mellon-nin_ , and then he will not plague us for the rest of the day."

The man sighed slightly, with a wry grin. "He will have plenty of candies in the rest of the festivities," he said, but she could see his son's excitement wearing on him a little in the crinkles around his eyes, the grin that he was holding back a little.

"You are heading down to the fields, my Lords?" she asked, and both of them nodded. She noticed that they did not even question the title, and she wondered if they were nobility, visiting Minas Tirith for the festivities marking the ten years since Mordor's fall.

Their clothing did not seem to lend to it. Both the elf and the man were wearing nondescript tunics and leggings, with identical grey cloaks fastened with green leaf brooches. The elf was dressed in greens and browns, and though both of their clothing was well made, it was not the usual wear of the nobility she had already seen, albeit from a distance, in the city.

"We are going to have a look at the Pelennor before it becomes too busy," said the elf, reaching over and gently stopping the boy from reaching out and grabbing something. The child frowned slightly and said something far too quickly for her to catch, though this time she was sure it was in her own language.

"Will you return in the afternoon?" she asked the two of them. "King Elessar and the visiting Lords will be there, I have heard."

The elf chuckled slightly, and she looked over at him, missing the stifled cough from the man. "We will most likely return in the afternoon," he said with a smile. "But I would see the sun rise over the Pelennor from the fields themselves this morning."

She nodded with another smile. Watching the sun rise over the mountains in the east was something she had never thought much of, but then she had spent many years of her life being concerned about other things far more pressing than the sun's daily journey. She hadn't realised what joy could be found in it, though she supposed an elf would find far more than she ever could.

The child squirmed in the man's arms, and the elf sighed with a smile. "Buy him something," he said again with a glance at the man. The man sighed, and then nodded, bouncing his son slightly in his arms.

"What do you want, _penneth_?" he asked, and from the tone of his voice, she guessed that _penneth_ was not the child's actual name, but something akin to calling their child 'little one' or similar.

The child took choosing seriously, before settling on a candied fruit. The man sighed. "Your mother is going to kill me," he murmured at his son, which prompted a laugh from the elf. She smiled at the child reaching for the candy, which she had picked up and begun to wrap.

"It is a special occasion," she said with a smile as she wrapped the candied fruit in paper. "Ten years since the downfall of Him, and the destruction of Mordor."

She looked up, and was surprised to see the grief in both the man and the elf's faces. The child was oblivious, watching the ribbons by the side of the stall sway slightly, but she noticed.

The grief was only present for a few moments, but for those moments it was apparent, the light dimming in their faces as memories clouded them. For a few seconds neither of them were present in the street, outside her market stall, but somewhere only they could see in their own minds.

She rustled the paper loudly, and both looked at her again, their faces smoothing over. "Yes," said the elf softly. "I suppose that it is a special occasion."

Then and there, she knew that they had fought in the war. Maybe not outside the Black Gate or Gondor, but there had been war in other realms as well as her own, and they had been just as harrowing, if the tales reaching her ears were to be believed. Most likely they were. People embroidered their stories, but the war was still fresh enough in everyone's minds that they would remain mostly true.

They had the look that she only noticed now of many of the soldiers and men in this city, of people who were still not quite sure exactly what they were to do now. Given that such a look was still on their faces after ten years, she suspected that they had been soldiers for most of their life. She wondered what exactly they had done, and whether they had been together.

The boy shifted once more in his father's arms and reached out with impatient hands. His father pulled him back slightly with an apologetic smile, and the moment ended. "I'm nearly done," she said with a smile, tying the paper up with a bright string. She looked around for something to cut the string with. "I just need…"

"Here," said the elf. He shifted his cloak aside and pulled a knife from a sheath at his belt. Flipping it in his hand, he reached over with an easy smile and, as she held the string taut, cut through it with ease.

She watched the elf as he flipped the knife once more in his hand, being careful to keep it away from the child, and put it back in it's sheath. It was a beautiful knife, the handle pale and carved with flowing designs, but she guessed that it was functional, above all. It certainly looked sharp.

The knife disappeared beneath the grey cloak, and she handed the wrapped candy over to the man. He shifted his son so he was carrying him with one hand, but then realised that with taking the candy, he could not reach any money.

"Here," the man said to the elf. "Take him." Without ceremony, he lifted his son up and handed him to the elf. There was a slight pause, when a little of what looked like to her apprehension passed over his face, but then he swung the boy up and settled him in his arms, much like his father had done. The man reached for money, and handed some coins over.

"My thanks," he said with a smile, the grey in his eyes warm ash once more.

She shook her head. "My stall is here often. Anytime you wish for some more candies…" She gestured at the display in front of him. Both man and elf laughed softly, and she smiled. "Enjoy the rest of the festivities."

The elf smiled, and she saw the crinkles form around his eyes. He tucked one long strand of blond hair behind one pointed ear, still under his hood. "I am sure we will," he said. "Estel, we should head on if we are to reach the fields before it becomes busy." The man- Estel, she remembered, nodded, and with a final goodbye they moved off, the elf swinging the man's son down to walk to one side of them, the candied fruit grasped firmly in his hands.

She watched them go, and wandered, as she rearranged some of the tarts in front of her, what exactly they had fought through. Even after ten years, warriors such as themselves were easily recognisable, if someone knew what to look for, and the two of them reminded her of the ghosts that had swept through Pelargir ten years ago: the Dunedain of near legends and the man who would become her King, though nobody had known it as the shadows rode through ten years ago.

She would like to think, as she watched them walk away, that they fought together. They certainly looked like close friends, people who had known each other for a long time, or had been through so much together that such a close friendship was inevitable.

Actually, she thought, they looked like brothers. The blond elf and the dark haired man had seemed at first glance maybe an unlikely friendship, but she dared anyone who saw them for more than a few moments to say otherwise. They held themselves like warriors, but also as two people who moved around each other with ease, without needing to look to know where the other was.

With that thought, she wondered how long they had known each other. She realised that at times the elf had looked old, though it may have been her own imagination filling in the gaps, she could not be sure. Both of their eyes held the scars of war, but in her memory, it was the elf's eyes that had looked like deep memories, stretching back to before her ancestors, whoever they were, were even born.

She did not think she had ever had friends as close as the man and elf were. Maybe it was something that could only be forged by things such as she imagined was visible in their eyes, in the way they moved themselves. But at the same time, the war did not seem to wholly dwell on them, and she chuckled softly to herself as she watched the child jump up over a crack in the stones paving the street.

They turned down a side street, and the elf turned towards the man, so she could see his face. The man- Estel- said something, and she saw the elf's expression soften slightly, in sympathy or shared experience she could not tell. The elf reached out and grasped the man's shoulder, and the two of them briefly paused in the streets, watching each other and nothing else for some precious moments.

And then the child said something, the words lost to her hearing. The man bent down with an affectionate smile and the elf laughed, that same silver sound that had first alerted her to their presence. The elf began speaking in his flowing tongue once more, and they moved away, out of her sight.

Her thoughts strayed back to them a few times over the course of the day, and for a little while she looked for them in the afternoon, when she was within the crowds on the fields. But she did not see the man and the elf, nor the young boy, and soon enough they slipped from her mind. Minas Tirith was a busy city, after all.

But occasionally they sprung up unbidden in her thoughts. At those times, she thought of the war and the destruction she had seen, and hoped for them too, the memories were fading, and the blade was becoming a little less sharp. And sometimes, in her dreams, of the grey-cloaked shadows that passed through Pelargir, there were glimpses of long blond hair, and eyes the colour of warm ash.

 _The End._


End file.
